


Loptr Farm

by Oceanbreeze7



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Animal Abuse, Aunt Natasha Romanov, Aunt Tasha, Carl the snake, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton's Farm, Clint and Laura Barton's Family, Clint is a good dad, Clint's family, Franco the Alpaca, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Leave Loki Alone, Loki Angst, Loki Feels, Loki Grieving, Loki Has Issues, Loki Redemption, Loki adopts a lot of animals, Loki has a lot of dogs, Loki runs a farm, Loki's Children - Freeform, Loki-centric, Mentioned Fenrir, Mentioned Jormungandr, Misunderstandings, Past Sigyn, Team Dynamics, Thor and Loki childhood, as in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-24 02:06:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9695006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oceanbreeze7/pseuds/Oceanbreeze7
Summary: Where Loki decides that the best place to stay hidden in all the realms, is right in the dead smack middle of Iowa.He didn't mean to adopt a dog, or two, or four...Or a goat, a cat, a horse- wait, is that a lion?Or:Where Loki hides out on a farm and accidentally makes it an animal rehabilitation service and home for wayward or abused creatures. And of course, Clint's dog runs away from his farm and ends up in the middle of it all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Peter Parker's Home for the Wayward Villain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3135464) by [BeanieBaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeanieBaby/pseuds/BeanieBaby). 



> This story was heavily influenced by the story Peter Parker's Home for Wayward Villians, and I tried very hard not to mimic any concepts or themes.  
> Anyways, this will have 2 chapters, the second chapter will have the Avengers and honestly, this is just a buildup of all of that.  
> If you pay attention, the writing style of the story changes as well.  
> At the start, it is written very descriptive and almost poetic. As Loki becomes less prince-like and more of a farmer/human, the writing style becomes more casual and trademark to how I write.

Loki Laufeyson was many things, a thief, a prince, a _king._

But for now, settled on the floor of an abandoned building far from civilization, he was simply tired.

He was exhausted of running, pausing for however long until the vicious fangs of whomever snapped at his backside and left him fleeing once more.

It was here in the abandoned building, nestled deep in the rolling hills and sparse forests did he find refuge, even if temporary.

The room smelled of clay and soil, pressed between the floorboards until they too became part of the wood itself. The walls were shrouded with the dimly glow of twilights, illuminating white with speckles of orange and sun fire.

Loki’s bones ached and his Seidr churned deep in his core. The clasps of his armor and mail pressed against his skin, searing his flesh from the longing flames of Surtur's aggression. Hours past, his metal still burned hotly against his flushed and fevered skin.

Hiding on Midgard, however unsettling and insulting it was, would delay the pursuit to flay the skin from his limbs.

He sent his Seidr out, clicking through the air itself to determine if any fool or warrior had followed his dives between the curtains of reality.

Sensing none except the feeble light of a wayward hound, he permitted his body to relax against the bleak wall of the Midgardian residence.

It would suit him for a temporary hide until he recovered his strength and could continue on as the tempting hare before the glassy eyed mutt.

* * *

 

The sorcerer awoke to the foreboding snort of a mindless creature dangerously close.

If Loki had hidden on any other realm, countless creatures would prove dangerous.

Awaking on Midgard to the sight of a haggard canine staring at him happily only personified his disdain and fall from grace.

“Be gone!” He hissed sourly, raising his hand in threat. The creature flinched, lowering its head to sniffle against the aged floorboards.

Loki’s lip curled, eying the wretched flea bitten mutt as little more than the filth it wore.

The dog let out a small whine, displeased and longing for comfort.

It had dark eyes, deep and rich like the finest pastries Asgard once offered him.

Loki’s Seidr hummed under his skin, warming his chilled flesh and teasing the air around him. He rose, movement graceful as the dog lowered itself to crawl across on its belly.

It whimpered once again, face matted with mud as sunlight shone on its aged muzzle and yellowed teeth.

“Pathetic,” Loki sneered, twisting the air itself to slide between the velvet curtains into the darkened pathways none walked but he.

* * *

 

Loki returned to the same house in the middle of open land and sparse trees, expecting his arrival to be silent and unknown.

He started in partial surprise and obvious revulsion. He took two steps backwards, his dragon hide boots sounding on the floor.

The dog looked up from where it rested its aged chin on weathered paws. Its nails broken and misshapen, pads cracked and bleeding.

Its tail thumped on the floor, only faintly discernible by starlight.

“Why?” Loki growled out, eyes sharp and hands trembling in the air, “Why are you still _here?”_

The dog didn’t rise to its feet, although it watched contently as if Loki’s appearance had fulfilled all its desires.

The dog was a _fool,_ if it could find such pleasure in the appearance of one unknown. For all it knew, Loki’s biting words would be mirrored with a wicked hit, a retort or cruel smile emphasized by jabs and wounds.

It had been nearly a fortnight, near an entire cycle of the Midgardian moon and yet the creature waited in the only room where Loki had been. Its paws worn from wandering and returning with hopes to see Loki once more.

How far had it walked, only to return here? How long would it have waited to see Loki once more, even if he was only to grant it abuse and anger?

How did it _yearn_ for affection and warming touch?

Loki’s lip curled and he walked into the room, observing the dog on the floor considering.

He rolled his jaw, sliding his tongue behind his teeth as words were forged through fire and silver itself.

“Why are you here?” He spoke, hearing the hiss of the smelter burning and something new from nothing.

The dog’s head jolted upwards, tilting obscenely to the side as it puzzled over the new information.

_“You back,”_ It chuffed, opening its mouth in a friendly grin, revealing a rotten tooth and soured breath. _“I waited.”_

Loki’s nostrils flared, his silver tongue worked once more to craft language to those without, “You had no notion of when I would return.”

The dog blinked contently, _“I always wait for friend come back.”_

Loki felt aggression and envy rear and taint his mind sourly, “And when they don’t?”

The dog lowered its head on its paws, _“I hope. Wait for you.”_

“What,” Loki laughed, the sound was biting in the silence of the night, “Your previous master grew ill of your misguided loyalty?”

_“No,”_ The dog was patient, _“They sleep. I wait for you now.”_

Loki scowled, “Then I shall return far past your pathetic life, and laugh upon the bones of your devotion.”

_“Okay,”_ The dog agreed pleasantly, _“I will wait always. And be here when you come back.”_

Loki resisted the urge to hit something, “You will be a corpse of your own illogical obedience.”

_“Sleep and wait for you.”_ The dog countered, _“None wait for you now.”_

Loki paused as if struck, “What? _What_ did you _dare_ say, you pathetic _mongrel?”_

The dog’s ears lowered sadly, _“None wait for you now. So I wait. And I’ll sleep and wait. Now one waits.”_

Loki’s lip twitched as the horrid tide of sorrow engulfed his body. It tugged and pulled, trapping him in a riptide of anger at the words.

Golden hair shining like Vanir straw. Tanned skin and weathered hands from work- a temper and mind sharpened like summer’s blaze across unsuspecting workers.

Gentle and swift like the elder mare, more noble than the fine bred stallions of Loki’s Fat- _Odin’s_ stables.

_“I don’t know when I’ll be back.”_ He had once said, before the stars themselves crashed and left suffocation and famine.

_“That is alright,”_ She had said, departing words as sweet as stolen honey, _“I’ll always wait for you,”_

The cosmos swirled as the Norns drew water from the well, and sprinkled it throughout the faces of the Vanir and the shadowed Prince himself. Urdr laughed as time defied her final words, and granted her passage to land beyond Loki’s travels.

He could ascend the branches of Yggdrasil, through the ripples of reality itself. Yet even he could not sway Hela’s grasp on the souls of those undead.

“Sigyn,” Loki spoke abruptly, his voice as cold as Jotunheimr’s frost, “You shall carry her name as a token of royalty and a prestigious honor.”

The dog tilted its head, eyes warm as her own had once been, _“Okay,”_ it barked contently, _“I always wait for you.”_

* * *

Sigyn was starving, her ribs pronounced like the knucklebones of Loki’s hand. She ate hungrily, lapping at the provided food with trust he could not fathom.

She drank thirstily from a puddle under a broken eave. Her maw was caked with grime and filth- he rid her of the mangy clumps with the sharpened blade of his knife.

She never moved against the gentle caress of metal to her skin.

Loki entertained the notion of splitting hide with tempered weaponry- to rid her of her suffering and allow Hela to take her spirit gently in embrace. She shook when she stood, weakened legs and bleeding paws, it would be a mercy.

His hand did not sway as he gently removed the tangled fur around her neck- mats of grey and black cascading to a small pile.

_“You gentle,”_ Sigyn noted calmly, tilting her head to one side as her eyes met his, _“Why so sad then?”_

Loki didn’t respond, instead he slid his knife back into his sheathe and observed her pelt critically.

His Seidr still hummed under his skin, throbbing like an abrasion starting to fester. It stung under his gentle prodding, souring his blood.

“Come,” Loki sighed, already dreading how demeaning his next task would be. The puddle where Sigyn drank provided enough water to bathe her feet.

She walked behind him, limping and yet never complaining. The white fur between her toes was painted black, thickened by the hardened shell of gore.

_“Hurt,”_ she sniffed, tossing her head upset until she pressed it wetly to the junction of his neck and shoulder. She exhaled soundly, relaxing at the contact as he tugged at the scabs until they left her toes.

_“You smell of trees,”_ She barked, the sound was loud and wet in his ear, _“Chopped, kept inside.”_

Loki had no notion of what tree she was speaking of, although she didn’t say more.

He conjured bandages, hidden in the paradoxical cavern he alone could access. The gauze had been boiled and cured, clean despite its many stains.

She didn’t protest, offering each paw until each limb was adorned with a thick bandage like winter stockings.

_“Sleep?”_ She asked hopefully, peering at the empty house and at her feet, debating how she could make such a trek.

He sighed, hefting one arm around her side to hoist her into the air. She exhaled hurriedly as her lungs were compressed; each rib Loki felt prod him even through his armor.

He had enough salted boar in his inventory to satisfy even her ravenous hunger.

She tucked her nose under her poorly trimmed tail, humming contently until moonlight illuminated her pelt and kissed her skin with the ethereal beauty of Valkyries.

* * *

 

Sigyn barked a greeting the next time he appeared in the home. Her tail swished through the air boldly, her fur a strange assortment of curls and knots from where he had shaven her.

_“Hello!”_ She wriggled excitedly, _“Miss you!”_

Loki stopped at that, it was an obscure sensation deep in his chest.

“I brought you food,” Loki grunted sourly, “Until you can hunt for yourself, dog.”

Sigyn investigated the leather bag, sniffing intently at the inner contents, _“You?”_

“No, that’s yours.” Loki sighed, feeling the early stirrings of pain inside his skull.

_“I know,”_ The dog huffed, _“I share. You eat too!”_

Loki paused and frowned, “No. It was only a small stop, I have places to go. You know where water is.”

_“Yes,”_ Sigyn agreed happily, _“Miss you!”_

Loki didn’t at all feel bad about leaving once more.

* * *

 

The next time Loki visited, he brought a pile of torn blankets. Mounded together with twine, they were suitable for a hound to sleep on deep in the stables of Asgard. Loki was anticipating Sigyn’s protests, or her whining against the comfort of the blankets themselves.

She instead cheered happily, curling on the pile with the grace and gentleness of a kindred heart, and enthused to tell him about his venture.

The next time he returned, he brought once more a sack of meats and fat. He noticed that her sides had begun to fill, disguising bone under shining grey and black fur.

Her eyes were lighter too, happier. She moaned about a trail she had found, urging him outside to run through the meadow with her.

He walked alongside her, over the game trail and near the silent creek.

In the sunlight her eyes had flecks of molten gold, the same shade as Sigyn’s hair such a long time ago.

* * *

 

Loki’s Seidr hummed and danced, slithering and flying across the air and sunlight. Cobwebs and dust melted, invisible oils danced across stained woods and restored them to their proper beauty. Broken glass and moth eaten curtains reversed like fluid until they too, were whole.

_“Home! Home!”_ Sigyn cheered happily, running across the kitchen floors with the clumsiness of a dog on tile, _“Stay now?”_

Loki didn’t.

Sigyn didn’t mind.

* * *

 

Loki was struck with the whispers of the Norns, laughter as higher knowledge rooted itself in his mind.

Midgard itself, was fiercely protected. Defended by savages and monsters, a mother wolf protecting her kits from a bloodthirsty beast.

If Loki remained unseen, invisible under the eye of mortal men, he was protected and safe on Midgard.

No longer would he be running, like the lonesome drake after its next meal. He could settle, regroup and calm his center until inevitably he was drawn to war once more.

He _was_ tired of always running, of teasing those hungry for his severed head with scant visions of his Seidr. He was tired of teetering on the line of offense or defense- never knowing when the next strike would prove lethal.

He walked into the back door of the fixed home, moving the Midgardian levers which controlled the flameless lanterns.

He heard the weary clicking of nails on the floor, approaching from the direction Loki knew the room she had claimed was located.

Sigyn stumbled in, eyes glazed with the alluring call of sleep. She blinked tiredly once, yawning a large sigh which revealed her yellowed teeth.

“Sigyn,” Loki calmly announced, leaning against the food preparation counter nearest the Midgardian sink. “Have you only just awoken?”

Sigyn’s ears jolted, her tail began swishing uncontrollably, knocking heavily into the walls.

_“You back!”_ she cheered excitedly, _“Missed you! Missed you!”_

She always greeted him in mockery to what should have been.

“I’m back,” He sighed, sniffing pointedly as he watched her wriggle in uncontrollable glee.

_“Good!”_ She chortled happily, _“When go again?”_

Loki paused, taking in her molten eyes which only conveyed happiness and warmth. It had been a very long time since anyone had casted him such a look of admiration.

“I don’t think I will,” Loki paused tentatively, “Go. For a while at least.”

Sigyn didn’t bark in surprise. She didn’t draw focus to the words which built such unease and discomfort in the lie smith.

_“I show bed,”_ Sigyn enthused, turning and wagging her tail in earnest, _“you have bed. I floor.”_

“I don’t need your bed,” Loki clarified, shaping his face into disgust at the thought, Sigyn’s tongue lolled out of her mouth at the expression.

_“Very soft,”_ Sigyn offered pointedly, now padding softly into the room. _“You have if wanted!”_

Loki couldn’t recall a single instance of his childhood where Thor had offered Loki the luxury of his own bed, in offer of taking his place on the floor.

Into adulthood, storming bars and taverns, never had Thor offered the comfort of a bed when he himself could take it for himself.

“I don’t need your bed, Sigyn,” Loki’s voice was softer, something foreign bubbled in his throat as he gently stroked the fur between her eyes, “I thank you for the gesture.”

Sigyn’s tail thumped against the mound of blankets, muffled and rhythmic.

“I fear I have naught told you all of which you are privy to hear.”

Sigyn tilted her head curiously, _“Okay, I know not much.”_

Loki almost smiled, “No, although you are permitted to know I do not hail from Midgard. I come from a land very far away.”

_“Okay,”_ Sigyn blinked _“You come back. Go far away but come back.”_

“That,” Loki paused, “Is true-”

_“Good!”_ Sigyn barked, _“You come back I happy to see you. You stay, we be happy. Okay?”_

It had been a long time since Loki felt the stirrings of warmth on his heart, twisting through the frigid inhospitable storm of his Seidr.

“Okay,” He agreed, petting her head and cupping her jaw with both hands, “Okay, Sigyn.”

* * *

 

Loki was free to pursuit arcane arts without drawing eye of his people or scorn from those he once called allies.

He forged rune stones, saturated deep in the rock letters and words to hide his land from eyes above. Spells woven between shards of dust and bedrock, encompassing his land a shroud of protection. He hadn’t dared create such permanent glyphs, he hadn’t the permission to stake a land and call it his own.

There was a sensation of glee and happiness, surpassing the stars and the very branches of Yggdrasil as he viewed his land. The violet and white wildflowers that shivered in the breeze- the white skinned trees that formed a small screen and divided open sky and open grass.

Tall grasses with unusually soft tufts swayed, displaying teasing glimpses of maroon undersides to each leaf. Loki knew that Sleipnir would have enjoyed running through the meadow.

_“Home?”_ Sigyn asked curiously, padding alongside his thigh as he walked back towards the Midgardian house.

Loki’s fingers trailed over the peeling wood- allowing his magic to slide over the flaking coating to stain and change the color of the wood itself into a rich brown, like the well cared homes of the Vanir.

He could imagine Sigyn outside, her hair drawn into a careless tie with a secondhand leather thong. She would wear a dirtied green cloth in her hair, shielding her brow and scalp from the summer’s heat.

He had gifted her the cloth, woven from Asgard’s finest silk and dyed with the sap of the Eldbarrow to Loki’s own color. He had gifted it as a token, a namesake and a promise.

She had smiled at the nobility and at the immense value of the fabric. Then she dirtied it with dirt and livestock stains and rendered it more than scrap.

_‘Who is the fool, Loki? He who gifted a working-maiden woven silk, or the maiden who wore it as a usable thing?’_

She would have adored Sigyn and her silken fur; she would have sung Vanir songs and plowed the grasses with grains to sell to the Aesir.

* * *

 

_“Come!”_ Sigyn shouted, racing over the game path with urgency in her step, _“Come!”_

“What is it?” Loki asked, glancing upwards from where he had woven his Seidr into the soil and placed the seeds of herbs and grain.

_“Help!”_ She cried, skittering to a stop with her claws furrowing the sod, _“Dog help!”_

“There’s a dog that needs help?” Loki blinked in bafflement and confusion, “Sigyn, I am not at leisure to assist every creature that calls for aid-”

_“Hurt,”_ Sigyn whined, shifting her weight anxiously, _“It hurt. Help.”_

“Fine,” Loki snapped, swishing his arm through the air to sense the living hearts of everything within.

There was something large in the direction Sigyn had ran from, it’s mind and body clouded by the acrid taint of sickness and pain.

He followed her, his stamina far beyond the lengths of mortal men. He found the creature, uttering sounds of misery and sorrow without an audience to hear the melody.

He shifted his tongue, considering the familiarity of the beast before him, “You are hurt.”

It snarled angrily, tossing its head through the fever of pain, _“Away! Stay away!”_

Loki could see the slough encompassing the iron jaws, a primitive trap biting deep into bone itself. “You are trapped and need assistance.”

_“No!”_ It snarled, fangs and teeth much longer than Sigyn’s own, _“Stay away!”_

Sigyn whimpered, dropping to her belly in concern to inch across the ground and dirty her stomach.

“Silence, wolf.” Loki spoke calmly, observing its front paw with a small frown, “Removing your paw will increase the madness which is pressing on your mind already.”

_“I free self and I bite you!”_ It threatened angrily, foaming spittle dropping from the corners of its maw, _“I bite you!”_

Loki stepped closer, reaching out to touch the paw itself. Instantly the furious creature clamped down on his arm, puncturing his Asgardian sleeve yet failing to break his skin. The teeth of Midgardian creatures were not able to tear the flesh of an Aesir.

It flinched back in surprise, pausing in confusion before reorienting itself and its position. It snarled threats, angrily roaring hatred as Loki felt the infected paw- putrid yellow squished under his fingers. There was little left for such an injury, it was a marvel Sigyn had found it before Hela had taken its once bright soul.

“Hush,” Loki chastised, “I will free you and help you.”

_“I cannot bite!”_ It bemoaned in horror, _“My teeth are broken!”_

“No they aren’t,” Loki muttered in annoyance, grasping the leg and the bone with careful hands, “Be still-”

His Seidr snapped the limb, sealing it shut with liquid strength. The wolf stumbled upwards, limping horrendously as it was unable to balance on three legs.

_“Free! Free!”_ It cheered, considering its mangled stump in confusion, _“Hurt, am hurt but what-”_

“Come with me,” Loki spoke soothingly, running a hand through its bristly fur with a careful touch, “I will hunt for you until you can go on your own.”

Its ears slid down, pressing flat to its skull. It growled threateningly, eyes savage and desperate. _‘You hunt? You no teeth!”_

His Seidr bubbled and boiled, racing a green ethereal light across his skin and across the torn sleeve of his shirt.

The wolf whimpered and tilted its head in wonder. It attempted to step forward, tripping over a root clumsily.

Loki slid an arm around its flank, cradling it like he once did Fenrir.

Sigyn bounded to her feet, racing after as they made way to the house Loki called home.

* * *

 

The wolf he named Fenris, after his own blood and kin, recovered and spoke in tongues about the sky-sire who listened to the songs he sang. Sigyn listened, interested and fascinated by the accented words of the larger creature, mimicking his melodic croon with disjointed barks.

Sigyn walked with Fenris, teaching him to run once more lacking a paw. They lazed around the garden, where Loki had an array of herbs and foods sprouting from the fertile soil.

The next visitor was an aged cat, limping and bloated with promise of kits. Fenris found her, stumbling along the base of the white skinned trees.

He growled at her, attempting to scare off the feline. She stood her ground, hissing and spitting with only one good eye and a horribly scarred ear.

_“One does not hunt those with little,”_ Fenris had told him in a melodic growl, dragging Loki to where the cat lay tired between the roots and an overturned rock.

He tempted her free, promising shelter for her unborn kits. She nestled in blankets Sigyn offered from her bed. The cat nibbled on the dried meats Loki had stored away.

She was a fascinating creature, noble and arrogant with enough generosity to assist Loki with basic endeavors. She understood the strange contraptions of Midgard, and offered her help when not nesting.

Loki named her Freydis, she snidely remarked how his outfit was peculiar.

How the sweet Sigyn would laugh, her voice like bells in the wind. She would tease his noble clothes, stained and torn from daily tasks. His armor was tarnished and dull, leather cracking from the sun.

There was a path out on the front of the house, a wide dirt trail for carriages or the Midgardian contraptions he had seen. He walked, Sigyn at his side, until his path met a larger dirt road heading both left and right.

He ventured right, scanning with his Seidr to warn him of mortals before he saw them.

When he did, they were not decorated in gaudy clothes or impractical headgear. They clothed themselves in trousers and shirts similar to the working hands- clothing that Sigyn had teased him to wear before.

He shifted his own garments from his native leathers into the thinner material. He went unseen, unrecognized. Invisible in the mortal’s skin as he entered a bartering home, finding marvelous creations to ease both the passing of Freydis’ kits as well as Fenris’ bed.

The human in charge barely noticed him, instead tending to shelves of feed for hoofed animals like those on Asgard.

He was relieved to see that horses were not only an Aesir creature.

* * *

 

He found Hilde once venturing back into the Midgardian town.

Outside the building where he purchased his goods, having now familiarized himself with Midgardian currency. A man was tugging her bridle gently, easing the sad creature to a large trough of feed and drink.

He approached her at once, spotting her gnarled spine and fly bitten flank.

“Sad, isn’t she?” The man stated, looking at the horse in grief, “She was trapped in a barn, couple miles up the road. Owner took off and left her there- rotten people.”

“Indeed,” Loki sniffed, barely pressing his hand to her dark fur.

“I was going to see if Miranda can take her in-” the man beckoned to the store, referring to the owner herself, “They have horse boarding in the back, and until they find her a better home-”

The horse turned her head, deep dark eyes meeting Loki with the vaguest spark of intelligence. Sigyn’s own horse had resembled the mare as well.

“I’ll take her,” Loki smoothly stated, brushing his clean fingers through her sweat matted mane, “I have room.”

The man blinked in surprise, “You _do?”_ His expression lit up happily, “Where do you live? I haven’t seen you here too often. You down south?”

Loki nodded briefly, pausing before he looked at the man firmly, “I reside multiple miles southern.”

“And you take in strays?” The man asked curiously, a large genuine smile spread across his face, “That’s wonderful. I’m sure she’ll be very happy- do you need a trailer to get her back?”

Loki most certainly did _not_ need one of those Midgardian contraptions. “I do not,” He interjected calmly, “However, I will require feed and sustenance-”

“Sure thing,” The man smiled, “Tell Miranda that Walter sent you in, you can get anything you need free of charge.” He offered his hand politely, “I’m Walter obviously, Walter Newence.”

Loki cautiously shook the man’s hand, “Loptr.”

Walter nodded and patted the horse's side once more, “Good luck with her!” Then he turned, clambering into a dull grey contraption and leaving the opposite direction Loki traveled.

The owner of the building, Miranda, thanked him for taking in the abused and malnourished horse. She provided him with unlimited amounts of grain and feed for not only a mare, but other creatures he not yet cared for.

In an impulsive moment, he told her of his location, and his availability to nurture those who were forgotten.

Sigyn would be smiling at him from behind Hela’s throne.

* * *

 

Loki hadn’t ever constructed a building before. He had seen the elves of Alfheim sing to the trees to warp branches into walls and roofs. He had seen the Vanir pound mallets into iron to shape logs into walls.

His Seidr was more wild than those of Asgard. They shaped the earth itself, warping the trees he uprooted into more suitable walls. He harvested the grasses from the meadow and lashed them together with twine woven from reeds.

He spelled the thatched roof against snow and water, carving enough glyphs to retain heat and bite back the winter’s chill. He knew naught of how cold Midgard plummeted in the colder months, yet he dare not risk the health of his companions.

Hilde grew strong in the few months he owned her, feeding her apples stolen from orchards. Her mane grew long, yet lighter in color than the mare he named her after.

Freydis bore kits in the soft hay nearest Hilde’s stall. They were mewling things, blind and deaf yet sucking fiends for mother’s milk. Freydis purred loudly, permitting Loki to hold each kit and whisper blessings like midwives did to babes.

Fenris returned just before the snow fell with a creature ill in mind. It scratched and hissed, unable to speak through the clouded fog of its lost sanity.

Loki cured it of its madness, feeding it ashberries from Svartalfheim to draw the poison from its blood. It thanked him, unusually intelligent as it scrambled off with humanoid hands and the markings on its face of a thief.

In the town, he was gifted a bushel of apples, smelling sweet and ripe when he was near. Miranda gifted them to him, wishing him best for a harvest of crops and herbs.

He plucked and dried his spices and plants, filling the house with the uncomfortable smell of Alfheim spices and Midgardian apples. Sigyn complained, opting to sleep in the constructed shelter Fenris occupied outdoors.

The snow fell and with it, the creatures grew coats thick and fluffy to protect against the bite. Although the cold was ignorable compared to Jotunheimr, Loki took care to heat the house with wooden stoves fueled by chopped cherry wood.

Astrid stumbled onto the farm next, shivering and hairless from mange. He took her without hesitation into his home, bathing her with Midgardian plumbing to rid her of insects. Her sores were coated with crushed Marigold and oil, the infection drawn with careful Seidr to her sides.

She was small, weak compared to Sigyn yet strong in spirit. Her body was ghastly, yet her personality shone like a comet across the sky.

Magnus was next, delivered to him by Miranda on the eve of a Midgardian holiday. Magnus bleated sourly, pawing at the icy ground in hopes of finding greenery to eat.

Loki pondered if Miranda was aware of his helmet, or if it was coincidence how Magnus’ horns looked eerily similar to his own.

The ice began to thaw and the snow rid itself from the ground. The days began to stretch longer, hinting at the season to come. Hilde ran through the mud, splashing her coat with dirt and grime. Astrid decided to best the horse, choosing to roll in large puddles of mud until her short grey fur was crackling and brown.

The day the birds chirped and began to pull at the ground for worms, Loki was informed by his wards that humans were lingering at the edge of his land. Nearest the road, yet advancing no further.

He investigated, with Sigyn matching him step for step.

_“Look look!”_ she cheered excitedly, running around the base of a large wooden sign drilled deep into the ground nearest the entry to his home.

_Loptr Farm,_ written in large black letters on a greenish backdrop.

_‘Look at you,’_ she would have laughed, _‘A highly nobleman proud of land sowed by his own hand. Careful now, wouldn’t want to thicken that princely skin of yours!’_

He looked blankly at his own hands, seeing the formation of calluses.

_‘Ah,’_ He would have said, _‘perhaps a prince long ago, but the work of Vanir is the most honorable of us all. If not for you, who would feed the mouths of our armies? Who would breed the fastest steeds? Who would sire the most beautiful maiden to inhabit the land?’_

_‘Careful, Loki,’_ She would tease, _‘Such complements to a commoner is not very princely.’_

“Ah,” He spoke aloud, eying the sign made from the hands of Midgardian’s commoners, “but I am a prince no longer.”

_“Happy,”_ Sigyn barked, wagging her tail enthusiastically, _“Happy here. With friends.”_

“Yes,” Loki agreed, a small smile spreading over his face as he looked far into the distance to see the rough shape of his house, “yet we have work to do still, Sigyn.”

_“We do?”_ She asked curiously, eyes blazing in excitement, _“More friends?”_

_‘Yes Loki,’_ The wind whispered through air, voice light and teasing, _‘Are you going to find more friends for me?’_

“More friends,” Loki assured, looking down with the smallest smile, “Shall we find those who are in need?”

_“Yes! Help!”_ Sigyn enthused, bolting towards the house as a grey and black arrow across the grass.

* * *

 

The air warmed once more and the tiny shoots of new grasses began to poke through the mud. Birds and rabbits scurried across the ground, poking at worms or at the tender leaves of new flowers.

Fenris recovered entirely, and despite his rigorous practice he was unable to run faster than Sigyn’s fastest speed. He made his displeasure obvious, yet never snapped with teeth at any of his companions.

Fenris’ permanent residence forced Loki to search for a reliable source of meat. He slipped away along pathways through the void, finding the scenery disorienting after having been so long without.

When he returned, he led the bridle of a purchased beast, burdened with malignant growth. The dwarves had long since raised the Hroemr, sheltering and harvesting their uncontrollable meat and flesh.

Loki whispered soothing words to the startled creature, housing it with Hilde and Freydis’ many kin. It buckled, burrowing into the soft straw and marveling in the luxury it was not used to. It would grow, vestigial meat and skin beyond the limits of sustainability. Loki would harvest and help the Hroemr, and in return offer it grain and shelter.

The running pack, headed by Sigyn had scurried across a nest of orphan rabbits. The mother taken by the merciless talons of goshawks. Loki searched the house, creating wooden tables and boxes in the dust filled spaces he neither needed or cared for.

He planted his garden, adding native foods Miranda had gifted him in exchange for one of Freydis’ kits. He had to scold Magnus’ who shuffled too close and threatened the growing stalks with his constant chewing.

Letters were delivered by a human courier, placing envelopes inside the box nearest the end of his dirt trodden path.

He read them under the kitchen lights, sorting through a Thank You letter from Walter for Hilde, and invites to festivities from Miranda. There were other notes as well, strange papers printed more uniform than a scribe, painted with poorly rendered drawings which were contradictory realistic. They detailed animals without bartering, merely requesting a home for those unwanted.

* * *

 

Gunnar was the brilliant stag who stumbled wounded into the meadow. His failed attempts at fighting another left him impaled and bleeding, bold and careless under Fenris’ tongue.

The thief marked creature once tainted by madness returned, bearing him paws full of forgeable nuts and berries. Loki’s new knowledge of Midgardian animals provided him knowledge that his taciturn companion was a Raccoon.

Scout was the aged hound, half blind and arthritic in his hips. He appeared with Miranda, being led gently by a soft rope.

“We should repaint this sign,” She teased friendly, “Loptr’s Farm for wayward animals.”

He didn’t protest, although he did glance over the multiple ‘printed’ papers from animal adoption services and grimy ‘websites’, as Miranda called it.

He purchased a saddle and other necessities, thankful they were identical to the ones stable hands used. He mounted Hilde, exercising her in the sunlight with the pack of hounds at her heels. Astrid ran alongside Scout, her body so small she nearly tucked under his stomach.

Gunnar ran too, understanding at the meadow and the surrounding woods meant no harm and no threat for violence. He healed from his wounds, returning a week after with the pregnant swell of a doe’s belly.

Walter visited, to see how Hilde had settled. He cried in fear at the sight of Fenris. Once Loki had soothed the man, he actually _did_ cry once seeing Magnus ram his horns against his reflected image in the door of his car.

Loptr became known in the small town in rural Iowa. Papers from neighbors Loki had never met appeared, pinned below his sign with needles. Details about various animals in search for a place of rest- orphaned foal's, abandoned kits, ancient mules and scarred oxen.

His stables were enhanced, expanded upon past the limits of mortal understanding. His home was shifted, entire rooms warded to envelop the blistering heat of desert or the tangible wet of tropics.

He dug a pond, deep and clean to house a turtle with a broken shell. Muskrats drew in from hidden creeks, making homes with mud and cattails despite the near presence of a large wolf.

Serea, the mighty eagle wounded from a bullet’s path, flew high over the home and into the free air.

She returned with whispers of strange creatures down below, across the road and grasses behind metal bars and angry humans.

Loki investigated of course, and held no mercy for the savage men who held something desperate and feral, keening for help under the angry growls.

“Hush,” Loki spoke, tongue dripping silver, “You are safe now.”

Its ears pressed flat to its skull, pacing in its tiny cage with paws the size of plates, _“No,”_ she grumbled, eyes wide with past horror and abuse, _“Not.”_

“You are,” Loki urged, observing the disgusting room lavished with unproportioned tokens of wealth. In Asgard he had seen men do similar things, capturing drakes as trophy’s, stunting their wings and tackling them for jest.

The creature made a wounded sound, curling its pale tail under her body. _“Not safe.”_

Loki opened the door, swinging the metal far enough to free the giant beast from where it sat, “You are. I can promise you safety and shelter, a haven until you are well.”

It revealed fangs, as large as his hand and golden like sunshine, _“I eat you if you lie.”_

Loki stepped into the cage, slowly running his hand down her spine and over her pronounced ribs, “I do not lie to those who need help.”

She tossed her head, smacking it heavily into Loki’s chest. He hadn’t worn his armor in so long, opting for the comfort of the workhands clothing. He felt the hit heavily, stumbling backwards under her weight.

“Are there more of you?” He asked carefully, mindful of her enormous claws.

_“Was one,”_ She grumbled, _“Like me, but color of angry sun. Dark, and he starved.”_

Loki’s face twitched, “I’m sorry I was not here sooner.”

She snorted sourly, _“Below, disgusting stick. Its sour.”_  

Loki descended as per her instructions, locating a creature encapsulated with fragmenting wood and rusted locks.

“Oh,” He breathed, flinching at the sight of darkened scales and many coils, “Hello there.”

It stuttered, trying to unwind from the cold dark prison it had been shoved into. Loki tugged gently on its mass, pulling it from the crate and holding it aloft the alchemy equipment which smelled so sweet to his nose. Perhaps the men brewed potions in secrecy, like the dark dealers on the lower courts.

_“Hello?”_ It warbled, voice intoxicated and slow as it struggled to awareness, _“Help?”_

“I will,” Loki assured, wrapping the thick muscle around his neck and side, holding the shaking serpent with both hands as he ascended the steps.

The feline was waiting for him, sitting with her tail curled before her paws with as much pride as she could regain. Loki shifted them back to his farm, placing her in the barn with promise to keep her safe.

The serpent, as long as Asgard’s feasting table, curled under the blissful warmth Loki’s spells provided.

Loki named the lion Mira, after the gentle pride Miranda displayed.

Loki named the serpent Jorm, after the son he had once, and lost again.

* * *

 

Mira was intelligent, and scathingly witty. She lounged on the soft hay, basking in the sunlight shone through the windows.

_“Missed spot,”_ she intoned lazily, not opening her eyes as Loki mucked out Hilde’s stall.

“I did not,” Loki huffed playfully, leisurely placing the dirtied bedding in a wheeled cart. “Although if you’re so certain I did, perhaps you would like to try? “

_“No hands,”_ she drawled back, opening her maw in an obscene yawn, _“Food soon?”_

“After I’m done with your own stall,” Loki retorted, watching in amusement as the lioness leapt to her feet, kicking her hind legs ferociously to expel the straw. She looked uncannily similar to Freydis, kicking her legs after finishing that which was private.

_“Done,”_ She stated bluntly, _“Now food.”_

“All of that has to get in this wagon,” Loki pointed out, causing the lioness to groan loudly and pad past him to venture outside in the pasture. It was likely that she would run with the pack, or halfheartedly paw at Magnus who always tried to ram her flank.

Franco, the newest addition to the farm and unfortunately the only one with a preexisting name, flaunted around cockily and followed Magnus like his shield brother. The only comfort, was he enjoyed the careful scratches Loki gave as he sheared off the thick wool along his neck as summer grew closer. The alpaca had an attitude, although was very fond of the short reckless goat.

Miranda visited often, bringing a cart with her to gently transport various animals to activities. Hilde enjoyed it, excitedly rushing to be loaded and sent to the children’s farm where she would assist children who loved her so. Freydis’ final kit was removed, gifted to the teacher of the only school in the area by her adoring students.

Magnus and Franco made a wonderful team, and often entertained parties of children’s birth. Loki didn’t understand it, although Miranda appreciated it and often gifted him baskets of cheese and fruit.

Loki adopted Carl, the mellow spirited python in shades of white and yellow. He draped himself across the furniture, curling around blankets and pillows in the main sitting room.

Loki almost dared to say that he was _happy._

_‘Is it all you desired, Sigyn?’_ He thought, sitting on the wooden chair of his back porch. Sigyn sprinted across the ground, barking enthusiastically as Fenris, Astrid, and Scout followed her happily. Hilde glanced up as the group ran past, chewing thoughtfully on a long strand of native grasses. Magnus bleated loudly, stomping his foot at Mira, who had _somehow_ managed to clamber on top of the stable to watch the sunset. Franco sneezed, twitching his nose as he inhaled pollen from the wild violets.

Freydis meowed wordlessly, running her tail along Loki’s exposed calves. She looked at him intently with her one good eye, pausing as if considering something momentous. Then she launched herself upwards, claws tearing into fabric and bouncing off his tough skin.

“You could have warned me,” Loki noted, arching one eyebrow as Freydis broke into happy purrs and settled hazardously on his thighs.

_“What would be fun in that?”_ She teased, flicking her one ear and the torn shreds of the other as he blew on them teasingly, _“Stop, no air.”_

“Then you would suffocate, my dear.” Loki wisely stated, running one hand down her back. She pouted, purring against her will.

It was strangely peaceful, and for the first time in eons, Loki could say that he was truly happy.

* * *

(Of course, as all things are destined to be, It didn't last long after the newest dog stumbled onto his farm.)

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the Avengers meet Clint's family, and go on a quest to find a dog named Lucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is completely different in style and feel than the first chapter. This could be an entirely separate story, but I figured I'd tie it on.
> 
> Also!  
> I've been intending to write a new story- either a Tony Stark story (which you all seem to love) or a heavily angsty Peter Parker one (Still Avengers though), If any of you would like to work with me, please let me know in the comments and I'll get back to you.

Lila and Cooper Barton were in tears.

They had searched for days- _days,_ looking far and wide across the country side for Lucky. Lila had made posters, printed low quality pictures with scribbled phone numbers and longing requests for help.

Their neighbours, sad to see such an unfortunate event, promised to spread the word and search around their own homesteads and the surrounding lands in case the sweet dog had gotten lost or trapped somewhere unusual.

They had kept their hopes up, driven by the strong and beautiful personality of their mother, Laura.

By the time a week had passed, their phone silent and unanswered, Laura was nearing a point of desperation.

Lila slouched, a metaphorical dark cloud hung over her head and dampened her cheeks with its rain. She was miserable- she had hardly spoken more than a few mumbled sentences; her school teacher was beginning to worry about her.

Cooper was handling it better, although he too was struggling to remain optimistic in the face of such a loss.

Lucky had been an important member of their family. He was handpicked as a puppy from a batch of pups almost four towns over. Lila hadn't released the squirming infant until they had drove all the way home- bickering with her brother for hours over possible names.

Lucky was Cooper's best friend through childhood friendship drama and fallout, running alongside him through the fields and keeping him company on the common fishing trips in summer. Lucky had scared off the imposing thief, trying to sneak through the one creaky window and off with some of Laura's fine china.

(That had been eventful in itself, if Lucky hadn't been the one to scare him off, Laura _knew_ a certain archer would have snuck through at some point and nailed him to a wall.)

Lucky wasn't just a friend, he was a constant living reminder that although their dad was often gone for work and for business, he would always return and until that day, a happy dog with soft eyes would lay with the children in wait.

Except now, that wonderful dog had wandered off and gotten lost, or perhaps worse.

Laura sighed, wringing her hands with a dishcloth mournfully.

She wasn't looking forward to the phone call she would eventually have to make.

* * *

"All I'm saying," Clint argued, pointing his spoon threateningly at Steve, "Is that if Catnip has that effect, it should be illegal for cats-"

"No no," Steve shook his head adamantly, although a small quirk of his mouth betrayed how amused he was by the conversation, "It's not like it's hurting the cats-"

"But it's a drug!" Clint argued, "You're supposed to tell me that drugs are bad, Mrs. America!"

Steve blinked as if startled, "Well, yes they are-"

"Alcohol is a drug," Bruce offered quietly, nursing his cup of morning tea with the smallest spark of humor in his eye, "If I recall correctly, there was a rumor going around that you could drink quite a bit, Steve."

" _What?"_ Tony gasped, stumbling and squinting at Steve from above his noticably dark eye bags, "Captain Chastity over here actually _drinks?"_

Steve looked abashed, "I'm not from the era of prohibition!"

"Oh my god," Tony looked stunned for a moment, "You were alive then, I can't imagine the horrors."

"Back on topic!" Clint argued, tossing his spoon into his bowl of leftover milk, "Catnip! Legal or no!"

"You better say legal, big green," Tony pointed at Bruce, "If you're huffing up the human equivalent-"

"Enough about me," Bruce blurted, blushing awkwardly, "Steve what are your opinions-"

"Wait," Clint paused, peering at Bruce curiously, "You use- whoa, wouldn't you know. I thought you needed a special card for that."

"Oh, Brucey Baby has _all_ the good stuff," Tony chuckled amused, finally achieving his satisfying mug of black coffee, "Medical my gorgeous _as-"_

"What?" Steve blinked in confusion and shock, "What is- what does Bruce have?"

"The good stuff," Tony stated with a mock sense of awe, "The holy grail of intoxication. The slave and cause of thousands of underage MIP's, the reason why my first babysitter always smelled bad-"

Clint snorted loudly, "Second hand smoke must have gone to your head."

"Cigarettes?" Steve guessed awkwardly, "That's not bad, right? Everyone smokes."

They paused, "Oh yeah," Clint blinked blankly, "Don't do cigarettes, they cause cancer."

Steve flinched in horror, " _What?"_

"Weed doesn't though!" Tony chirped excitedly, "All of that _beautiful beautiful_ green-"

"Tony," Bruce sighed, rubbing his hands against his eyes, trying to hide as much of his face as he could.

"Oh no, I was talking about the other guy's toned back. I should take a pic, Brucey. It puts David Hasselhoff to shame."

"Wait, Stark," Clint paused curiously, "Shouldn't that uh, that flashlight make you able to get a card?"

Tony sighed dramatically, "Listen bird-brain, that green may do it for others but I prefer the finer levels of intoxication. Like scotch, or aged wine, or ketamine."

" _Ketamine?"_ Bruce squawked, jolting upwards and nearly falling off his barstool.

"Joking! Joking!" Tony defended, winking subtly at Clint.

"What's-," Steve paused, looking dreadful of his question, "What's ketamine?"

"Horse tranquilizers," Clint cheerfully stated, "A syringe of that knocks you right down."

"Oh," Steve blinked calmly, "I've done that."

This time, Bruce did fall off his chair.

" _What?"_ Tony gasped, jaw dropping comedically. Clint choked on spit, coughing loudly in between hoarse laughter.

"Yes?" Steve stated, looking incredibly uncomfortable, "when soldiers were injured, meds for animals were cheaper-"

"Oh my god," Tony's voice was very strained, "Steve's taken Bald Eagle medicine. He is the pure embodiment of _Murica."_

Steve looked very uncomfortable, "Was that...bad?"

"Oh Cap," Clint sniggered, watching as Bruce finally stumbled back to his seat, "Times have changed _so_ mu-"

A loud chipper ring echoed around the kitchen, ending the conversation. Clint jumped at the sound, pausing for a brief second before he fumbled with his phone, struggling to get past the fingerprint lock screen.

"Oh," Clint smiled, looking at the caller ID affectionately labeled _'Nest',_ "One sec, fellas."

Although his teammates acted generally like children, they all had a good understanding of respect for privacy.

They shifted away, discussing something else animatedly in a quieter tone to not disrupt Clint's phone call.

"Hello," Clint chirped, holding the phone to one ear while rising to place his used bowl and spoon in the sink, "what's up?"

 _"Hey there,"_ Laura's voice paused, uncomfortable, _"are you busy?"_

Clint frowned, "Now, or as in do I have a mission soon? Nothing that I'm aware of, although if there's a code which could happen at any moment I am. It's been quiet in the city, so I should be in the clear."

_"We watched the news on the last fight, that teammate of yours, the one with the Hammer is Lila's favorite."_

"Aww, don't go breaking my heart here," Clint teased with a smirk, "I thought I was. Is there something wrong? You seem a bit off."

There was a pause, then Laura sighed heavily with the unmistakable sound of stress, _"Yes actually. Lucky ran away."_

"What?" Clint tensed, blurting the word in disbelief. The bowl clattered loudly in the sink, silencing the entire room, "When was this?"

_"About a week ago. We've been looking and putting up posters, we haven't seen any signs or heard anything."_

"Have you checked the-"

_"The local pounds and kennels haven't said they even seen one that looks like Lucky. Lila is so upset, and Cooper is having friend trouble again-"_

Clint scowled and leant over the counter, closing his eyes and bracing his head on his chin, "Alright alright. I can look-"

_"No, Clint, I don't want to have to take you away-"_

"It's fine, they can handle things without me-"

_"Clint you have a city to protect-"_

"Well pardon my language, but this city can go to shit for all I care."

Laura paused, _"You don't mean that and you know that. I just wanted to call and let you know. Maybe you could visit soon? Cheer up Lila or take her to the fair?"_

"Of course," Clint nodded quickly, even though she couldn't see it, "Yeah, I can totally do that. You holding up alright?"

Laura paused, _"I'm doing fine. Lucky's a smart boy, he'll show up-"_

Then Clint remembered, and boy was he happy he did.

"No no- look," He jolted upwards, fueled by the energetic energy he had been lacking just moments earlier, "Okay, I'm going to find him and I'll bring him back-"

_"Clint-"_

"No no, shush. Shush right now," Clint argued, "I got this, I've got friends in high places that can help. Actually, literally high, I'm on the eightieth floor of the tower."

_"...You always did like high places,"_

"I feel a joke coming on, and I'm going to stop you before you even say it."

He could hear her slight huff of laughter, the one sound she made when she had a smile she was trying to hide.

_"Why, Mr. Hawkeye, I would never-"_

"Nope, nope. Shut your face, right now. You don't get to talk unless it's about how happy and amazing I am to bring back Lucky."

Her mood sobered, _"Clint, even you can't find him if we've been looking for days-"_

"Excuse me," Clint smiled happily, "I have blackmail on the Iron Head."

_"Please tell me you didn't just use Cooper's nickname for him to his face."_

Clint peered over, seeing Tony's silent face mirroring his words in outrage, "Yeah, well, that was my bad."

_"You're a terrible influence,"_

"And you love me."

He could tell that she was smiling, _"I do. Very much."_

* * *

What Clint never told Laura, was that he had Lucky implanted with a tiny microchip, top of the line technology at the time.

Laura would have called him paranoid, although Natasha had silently agreed with his precautions.

Unfortunately, due to the lack of precise satellite reception (and decent cell service), Clint knew that they would only be able to find Lucky's location within a few square miles.

If he happened to have a Norse god, and a metal man in the sky searching for a poor little dog, well, Clint was just using his resources.

Of course, convincing the Avengers to help him with a highly classified search and rescue mission would be more difficult than he had originally thought.

* * *

Clint moved with the sleek motions of a jaguar on the prowl- dropping and flipping out of the ceiling in one practiced movement to land soundly on the coffee table, and knock the bowl of popcorn all over the spluttering billionaire.

"What the-" Tony gasped out, flinging his arms upwards to protect him from the buttery spray, "- _Clint!"_

Clint grinned, wiggling his fingers in hello.

"You-" Tony gasped, jolting to his feet and staring at the grease marks on his already well stained shirt, "You wrecked my shirt!"

Clint paused, "I think it was already wrecked before I got here."

Tony scowled, "That's not fair- Steve, tell him that's not fair."

Steve blinked, baffled by the intensity and speed in which things had escalated, "I uh, I don't believe that I should involve myself-"

"Steve!" Tony squawked, looking thoroughly baffled and hurt, "You're supposed to take my side!"

Clint was suddenly overcome with the intense desire to hit Tony with the popcorn bowl.

He did, and the responding clatter of a metal bowl on Tony's skull was eerily nostalgic.

Tony yelped, cradling his skull with a look of sheer disbelief.

"You- You hit me with a _bowl."_

"Shame," Natasha spoke dryly, walking into the living room in soft looking grey sweatpants, "I was saving it for when we decided to watch a horrible movie. Maybe a documentary about your life, Stark."

Tony pouted, "It would have been _amazing,_ if it's about me."

"Unless it was underfunded and staffed by PBS." Clint wisely noted, "I haven't seen them work magic in years, and Stark honey, you need a little bit."

"I'm being attacked," Tony blinked, "Steve, I'm being attacked here."

Steve blinked, "I just want to read my magazine here in peace, can't you take this outside? Or to the park?"

" _Can't you take this outside?"_ Tony mimicked sourly, "We're only going outside if I kick Clint so hard in his _as-"_

"Alright boys," Natasha sat heavily on the nearest couch, her lips twisted in the slightest smile of amusement, "This is about the rescue mission, right?"

"What?" Steve jolted upwards, eyes hardening at the words, "What rescue mission?"

" _My_ rescue mission," Clint smoothly took control of the situation.

"What, are we off to find your lost pride?" Tony muttered sourly, kicking the bowl across the ground as if to spite it.

"No no, but I do need your help." Clint paused, hopping off the coffee table onto the least popcorn layered spot on the carpet, "Or actually, I need your tech."

" _Oh,"_ Tony dramatically groaned, "So _that's_ why you hit me with a bowl."

"I'll hit you with something worse if you don't listen," Natasha threatened calmly, "Like your loyalty."

Tony flinched, "That was low hanging fruit, Daddy Long Legs."

Natasha nodded slightly, acknowledging the jab.

"Is this- is this mission from SHIELD?" Steve asked worriedly, "How is it that we're just now finding out about it?"

"Actually," Clint confessed awkwardly, "I need your help to find my dog."

There was a pause in the air, drawing tension to a singular moment which Tony broke with laughter.

"A _dog?"_ Tony guffawed, "Okay, first, I'm impressed that you managed to sneak a _dog_ in here. What have you been doing- throwing its poop out the window?"

Steve flushed in second hand embarrassment and looked at Clint shyly.

"No no," Clint soured, "It's my dog but he got loose and we can't find him. He's in Iowa, but he's got a GPS chip on him, which is why I need your help."

"Right," Tony used one finger to collect the unshed tears from his eye, "A dog ran all the way from New York to Iowa in a few days? What did you do, stick it with Bruce's blood?"

"No," Natasha spoke calmly, "It got loose from his farm and ran off. Or that's what Clint's wife told me."

Tony choked on his own spit.

"What?" Steve sounded strangled, "You- you have a- no no I mean, I'm sure she's a _great dame,_ but-"

" _-I'm dying"_ Tony gasped for air.

"Oh she is," Natasha smoothly interjected, sparing Steve from further embarrassing himself, "She is very lovely and has a kind personality. You'd like her."

 _"-help,"_ Tony choked out, still struggling to breathe.

Clint snatched the bowl, and whacked the man in his chest, hard. This time, the metallic resonating noise was even louder, from where the metal had clipped the outer rim of the Reactor's casing.

Tony jolted in surprise, drawing in a ragged inhale before he hacked a few more times.

"A wife," Tony spoke, voice uncharacteristically hoarse, "-right, you have a wife and you drive Pepper almost as insane as I do-"

"That's a lie," Natasha sighed, "But if you annoy Laura in anyway, I will tear out the wires from your suit and strangle you with them."

Tony nodded energetically, "Right right, you know it's going to be fun when Widow here threatens me before we even leave the tower. So a wife, wow-"

"Yep," Clint dryly summarized, "I need your help to find Lucky."

"Oh god," Tony winced, wrinkling his nose in distaste, "that's a horrible name."

"I think it's fine," Steve looked confused, "Bucky had a dog named Lucky when I was growing up."

"It sounds like a _kid_ came up with it," Tony complained, "Why is it so _lame?"_

"My daughter _did_ come up with the name," Clint scowled, "Help me find my dog, dam-dang it." Clint quickly caught himself, peering at Steve cautiously, "Gosh diddly darn dang it."

Tony grinned savagely, and nodded slowly, "Fine fine, I'll find your mutt if you introduce me to your wife."

"And daughter." Steve added in politely.

"No no," Tony pointed blindly at Steve in his peripherals, managing to miss the soldier by a large angle, "I'm not thinking about that until later, or I'll choke on my own spit again."

"Oh trust me," Natasha muttered lowly, "We wouldn't mind if you choked."

* * *

Bruce was easy to get on board- he liked dogs since they were one of the few animals which didn't panic at him instantly.

Thor was even easier; the large Asgardian was excited to see the mortal breed of the fierce hounds he knew well. Within a day, after the paperwork had been completed and sent in to SHIELD, they were loading food and bags with spare changes of clothes and other necessary toiletries into the Quinjet.

The plan was to fly the Quinjet over most of the distance, landing it near a private airport and taking several rented cars (each driven by Natasha and Clint) towards the location of the farm. Tony's GPS radar had been programmed into each of their phones, allowing them each the ability to locate the general area where Lucky was.

As they got closer, the coordinates would become more localized as the signal was detected by one of Stark's large and confusion machines. From there, it was fairly straightforward.

Natasha, driving Thor and Steve in her rented Range Rover had long since vanished on the highway. Clint, steering his own rented Truck (mostly to accommodate the strange metal machines Tony insisted they bring with), was working to move Bruce and Tony towards his farm.

He had expected the two to quickly begin the quickly spoken jargon Clint never understood. Instead, Clint was privy to the amazing spectacle that was, Bruce Banner casually rapping along to the poor music selection the car was equipped with.

The soft spoken man had the ability to quickly speak on par with auctioneers- something Clint had seen when he and the scientist were making fun of a storage unit TV show. Bruce's tongue moved at a speed Clint had only seen in YouTube videos, rambling out individual words so precisely it fell into the harmonic slur of modern rap.

Tony of course, was eating this up with hysterical laughter and breathless smiles.

Bruce fumbled with his glasses, cleaning the lenses as he hummed over the more profane swear words of Kanye.

"You're a rap god," Clint moaned, even he was unable to escape the pleasant mood the truck was infected with, "You haven't messed up _once."_

"I uh," Bruce hunkered forwards sheepishly, "I don't know the words to Rap God."

"Wait, you can do it?" Tony balked, "Well, you probably can. This piece of diesel fueled junk doesn't have Rap God does it?"

Clint flipped the channels on the radio, flickering over several country music channels before settling on the unusual cassette tape they had been playing, "Unless you think Blake Shelton counts."

"Freaking Iowa," Tony scoffed, "All that there is here is corn, corn, corn, oh look, a sign saying that we're all being condemned to hell, and more corn."

"Don't forget Grandpa's pumpkin patch," Clint wisely added, "I don't know why, but there's like, four of them on the way there."

"Four pumpkin patches?" Bruce asked interestedly, "Statistically that's unlikely."

"It's even weirder that they're _all_ Grandpa's pumpkin patches." Clint agreed, "Aren't old people supposed to retire to Florida?"

"Can't," Tony grunted, "It's sinking underwater since Global Warming is a thing."

"That's unfortunate," Clint agreed, passing around a slow creeping hummer on the road, "Kanye cassette one more time?"

"Can we take a moment here, because someone had to custom _make_ a Kanye cassette."

"It's Iowa," Clint shrugged, "I wouldn't be surprised if we passed one of those three wheeled motorcycles."

"Heaven forbid," Tony agreed, "Bruce, you ready for this?"

Bruce rolled his shoulders, reclining backwards to rest against the short backrest in the bench seat. He lifted one hand, pointing at Tony uncharacteristically and relaxed, "Hit it."

* * *

The sun was beginning to go down when Clint peeled off the highway onto the pothole filled road of a small city. He kept driving, past the last sign of civilization, ignoring the golden arches out into the countryside.

Soybean fields grew all around him, a breath of fresh air from the plethora of corn.

Bruce had nodded off, once again displaying his unique talent of falling asleep in any position he wanted.

Tony was fiddling quietly on his phone, glazed brown eyes illuminated by the electronic blue of his screen. He had entered his mechanical Zen mode, and Clint had no urgency or desire to draw him back out of it.

Bruce jolted awake the moment they pulled off ancient pavement onto hard packed dirt- by then the sun had set and the sky was beginning to grow hazy with the sight of millions of stars.

There was no air pollution or light pollution, and soon the only light on the road was Clint's flickering high beams and starlight.

"Is Natasha there?" Tony spoke for the first time in hours, peering up from his phone like a zombie.

"Probably," Clint shrugged, rolling his right shoulder as he steered with his left, "It's fine, Cooper wanted to show her the one fish he got mounted. She can handle them."

"Tony said you had a daughter, is that Cooper?" Bruce asked quietly, voice thick from sleep.

"Nope," Clint popped the P, switching hands lazily, "That's Lila, Cooper is my son. Little ball of energy, he'll chat your brains out if you give him enough time."

Bruce made a small sound of agreement, before he stumbled off back to sleep.

It was well into the morning by the time Clint turned from the main dirt road onto the grey gravel one, rented wheels bouncing over the one pothole he had filled every year although it never seemed to get better. He passed the tire swing, parking next to the large Range Rover already cold from the night air.

The farmhouse was glowing warmly, illuminating the night from its many windows. Clint spotted a curtain being pulled to the side- then the screen door was pushed open and two small figured sprinted over the ground.

Clint waited, forgetting for a brief moment that Lucky wouldn't be running out with them, barking all the way across the grass.

"Up and at 'em, boys." Clint grunted, reaching over to shove Tony out of his weird trance, "Show time."

"Wha-" Bruce yawned, blinking quickly to try and gather his wits, "What-"

The driver's door was yanked open and a young squeal of excitement jumped into the car, climbing onto Clint's lap with the energy of a puppy.

"Daddy!" Lila squealed, pawing at Clint's seat belt to try and unhook it, "Aunt Tasha came and said that you would be here later-"

"Did Aunt Tasha tell you that it's past your bedtime?" Clint scolded gently, "You knew I'd be here tomorrow, silly-lily."

The girl beamed, regardless of the fact she had disobeyed, "But then I wouldn't see you get here!"

Tony blinked, and for a small moment the man displayed the most vulnerable expression Clint had ever seen on him. Tony's one hand was half extended, frozen in the air like he was afraid to say something or touch a venomous beast.

"Dad?" A boy asked, peering into the dark truck, "You get here alright?"

"Sure did," Clint agreed, twisting and maneuvering Lila in his grip so he could step out while cradling the smaller boy, "You know Richardson is growing Soybeans now?"

Cooper tilted his head interested, "They are? Harper said that they would be but I didn't think they'd actually be planting this year."

"Soybeans!" Lila chimed, "no more funny Potatoes."

"I don't know," Clint twisted his expression to look deep in thought, "Imagine if we found a potato that looked like George Washington."

"Can't beat Abraham Lincorn!" Lila laughed, arguing ferociously.

Clint heard the other door to the truck open, and the telltale signs of two sets of shoes stepping down onto the dirt packed ground. Lila twisted, peering over Clint's shoulder to see the new visitors.

"Uh," Cooper paused, looking at his feet shyly, "Nice to meet you, my name is Cooper-"

"Lila!" Clint's daughter chimed, trying to shove one of her arms over Clint's shoulder so she could shake, "Nice to meet you! Mummy said that you're Mr. Bruce and Mr. Stark!"

"Oh uh," Bruce smiled nervously, bending his knee so he could formally shake Cooper's hand, "It's nice to meet you, Cooper and Lila."

Stark scratched the back of his neck, looking at Clint with the longing expression of _'Help me!'_

Cooper mirrored it right back at him.

"Alright alright," Clint soothed the situation, "How about we head inside, I'm sure Tasha already worked out the sleeping arrangements-"

"Yeah!" Lila cheered excitedly, "I'm sleeping with Aunt Tasha-"

"In your princess bed?" Clint gasped in mock disbelief, "You think Tasha can handle Snow White?"

"It's Ariel now!" Lila informed him proudly, "And Cooper has the couch,"

"You're sleeping in my bed, Mr. Stark." Cooper's blush was so strong; Clint could see it in the dark.

"Oh, uh," Tony shifted his weight uncomfortably, "That's okay kid, I uh, I can take the couch."

"What, and miss meeting Jarvis the Beta fish?" Clint wiggled his eyebrows and cackled as Cooper shot him a glare, "C'mon Tin Head, you'll love it."

Tony flinched and looked at Cooper in confusion, "You- you have a fish named Jarvis?"

"Thanks' dad," Cooper hissed under his breath.

Clint shifted Lila to rest in one arm, while he used the other to loudly stage whisper, "You're his _favorite."_

Cooper groaned.

* * *

Laura was a beautiful woman, with brown hair and slight wrinkles which didn't detract from her beauty.

She looked right at home, serving pancakes from a black skillet onto Thor's plate, smiling and heaping the mound until it surpassed the limits of human hunger.

Lila sat across from Thor, her eyes wide and sparkling as she waited for Thor to dig in happily.

Cooper and Tony existed in a state of perpetual awkwardness, neither exchanging words beyond uncomfortable small talk. Natasha found it absolutely hilarious, although she was preoccupied with getting the rest of breakfast ready to go.

Bruce and Steve sat next to each other, Steve being ever so respectable and gentlemanly in another person's home. He had even made the bed that he and Bruce had shared- something Tony had scoffed at.

"Good morning!" Clint loudly yawned, walking into the main room from the stairwell. His hair stuck upright in the nearly trademark Barton-Bedhead, scruff decorating his chin and jawline.

"Daddy!" Lila squealed excitedly, "Tasha said that we could braid your hair!"

Clint blinked, nodded enthusiastically and snatched a mug of coffee. He didn't seem to process the words until a few sips later, where he looked questionably at Natasha.

"I bought hair extensions," Natasha clarified, setting a platter of scrambled eggs on the center of the table, "Lila wanted to braid yours as practice."

"Practice?" Clint blinked tiredly, "For who? Your mother?"

Laura laughed, a happy sound although her eyes glittered mischievously, "No, we're having a contest. Mr. Odinson was rather vocal with his appreciation for human braids."

Thor glanced up, a piece of pancake caught in the scruff just below his lip.

"Ah," Clint nodded sagely, "But only if you make me look beautiful."

"Can I do your makeup!" Lila's eyes lit up excitedly, "Aunt Tasha can help!"

"Okay, not that beautiful," Clint settled, "I don't think the mirrors could handle it."

Cooper smiled slightly, fiddling around with the toast on his plate and his fork.

"How did you sleep?" Laura asked Steve and Bruce, tucking one lock of hair behind her ear.

"Oh, excellent Ma'am." Steve instantly responded, smiling what had to be a practiced expression, "You have a wonderful home."

"You could learn a lesson from him, in being polite." Laura teased Clint.

"What?" Clint gasped in surprise, straightening and crossing his arms, "That- that is the _least_ possible thing I could learn-"

"Daddy, you have some egg on your face," Lila stage whispered, reaching up to try and knock the stray yolk free.

Steve's lip twitched, whereas Bruce just laughed quietly under his breath.

"What about you, Mr. Stark?" Laura inquired, "It may not be Egyptian cotton but I hope it was alright."

"Wha- oh no it was fi-" Tony blinked quickly, clearing his throat quietly, "It was wonderful, Ma'am."

"Wow," Laura smiled, looking at Clint with one eyebrow raised, "You said he wasn't tamed."

Clint pouted, "It's because you're too pretty. He always gets all docile for the pretty ones."

"Would you like any more to eat?" Laura asked pleasantly, "I can put on another pot of coffee if you'd like."

"Yes- erm, yes please. Ma'am." Tony awkwardly added on the end, "More coffee I mean."

Laura rose, walking into the kitchen with barely disguised laughter, "You have the diet of Cooper, once that boy found hot chocolate that's all he drinks now. Lord spare us when he discovers coffee."

Cooper flushed and ducked lower to stare intently at his mangled piece of toast. He stabbed it with his fork again.

"No shame in caffeine," Tony defended, "It keeps genus' brains going. It's the fuel for brilliance."

"Oh don't I know it," Laura smiled, returning with the steaming pot, "Cooper here is top of his class, and won the last science fair."

" _Mom!"_ Cooper hissed under his breath, looking more scandalized by the second.

"Science fair?" Steve asked interestedly, tilting his head with a small smile, "making a volcano?"

"That's been around since your time?" Clint snickered, "ah, what a classic."

"Cooper designed a foldable bullet resistant shield for SWAT Team use," Natasha clarified, leaning against a wall with a ceramic mug covered in tiny spiders in her hands, "I contributed with the bullets."

Tony blinked in surprise, "A foldable riot shield? That's ridiculous, the strain would compromise the security- the joints wouldn't hold up, how did you make the folding pattern? Hydraulics? Do you know what those even are?"

Cooper blushed and scowled at his plate, "Origami, reinforced Kevlar in Origami folding patterns."

Tony barked out a single sound of laughter, before he paused, "wait, _origami?_ How did- Bruce did we ever think of that? How did we never think of that?"

Bruce looked at Cooper and smiled invitingly, "that's very smart to have come up with. Do you like machines or inventing?"

Cooper flushed even further, and squirmed under the sudden attention, "I- I like making things. It's easy and it makes sense."

"You must be well admired amidst your companions, little one." Thor spoke, his voice several notches louder than anyone else's. The large man looked intrigued, although he was still focusing on a fierce battle of arranging leftover syrup into art with Lila.

Cooper flushed and looked more embarrassed than before, he looked down at his plate once more without responding. Tony frowned thoughtfully, looking slightly disheartened with the bitter taste of nostalgia.

Laura opened her mouth to change the topic- although a sharp elbow gently prodded her side. She glanced at Natasha, who gave the subtlest shake of her head.

"You know, using Origami may actually help with flexibility for the suit," Tony spoke, not having noticed Natasha or Laura, "I don't really know much about paper folding though- actually I don't know the last time I held paper. Digital new wave, _but_ if you show me that project of yours, it would be a huge help."

Clint lifted his mug to hide his smile.

See the kids at Cooper's school be jerks _now._

Cooper's head shot up and his eyes widened. His jaw twitched as he stared at Tony, who was adjusting his posture uncomfortably.

"Whatcha gonna call it, Nightlight?" Clint asked, arching one eyebrow challengingly at Tony.

Cooper looked scandalized at how rude his father was. Clint mentally wished that Cooper wouldn't say anything long enough-

"Maybe I should make something for you, Legolas, since you're always running off buildings with no armor." Tony snarked back, easily slipping into the usual type of verbal battles, "Or maybe I should make you an inflatable fanny pack with how often you trip over your own shoes."

Clint scowled, "That was _one_ time. _Once."_

Lila giggled happily, "You tripped over your own shoes?"

"I should tell you about the San Antonio incident," Natasha hummed casually, "Giant scorpions _and_ cowboys."

"No!" Tony yelped, waving his hands dramatically, "Nope nope, we do _not_ have to tell them that story-"

"Oh don't tell me you forgot what happened," Clint teased with a glowing spark in his eye, "Never forget the Alamo."

"Hey, _I know,"_ Tony dramatically announced, trying to hush the archer before he could elaborate on the spectacular flop, "It'll be Cooper Alloy- you know, like Copper, it's a _pun,"_

"I'll 'Cu' later with it," Bruce spoke, lip twitching as he added his own pun to the pile.

"When we're talking about origami," Steve started curiously, "this is the origami that I know, right?"

"You're good," Natasha assured, "Good old paper folding, not that much has changed, Cap."

Steve looked visibly relieved, "Thank you for the breakfast, ma'am. Would you like help with the dishes?"

Laura beamed, "So polite, I think I have the dishes although if you would help with outside, Clint can show you where, it would be a huge help."

"That," Clint added playfully, "And we have a bet on if you can rip a log in half with two hands. She says you can't, I say you can. C'mon Cap, show off your inner masculinity and do it for the home team."

Steve gave a small awkward laugh, "Uh, I'll give it a shot?"

"Good man," Clint nodded eagerly, "Now, can you split more than Thor though?"

"Now _that bet_ I'm willing to get in on." Tony piped up, a wicked glint in his eye, "And by that, I mean Steve you're going _down."_

* * *

At noon, Tony was ten dollars more rich and the Barton homestead had enough wood to last them until the next fall.

After settling down for a light lunch, mostly prepared by Natasha with Bruce's help, the group spread out a local map Natasha purchased from the nearest gas station and began to map out the necessary data.

Tony fiddled with a sharpie, a bright purple taken from Lila's craft box. He drew rough locations, mapping paths and conversing with Clint over the time estimates for each location.

Clint was surprisingly helpful- although he didn't understand Tony's device, he did know which roads would have less traffic or which corn fields were _absolutely_ off limits.

The idea was simple, between the two cars Clint and Natasha would create a quasi 'net', where Lucky's GPS coordinates were somewhere in between. By maintaining roughly, the same distance or orientation, they would be able to localize the signal and pin point it to a fairly small area.

The signal already was coming in several miles North, where Laura and the children hadn't ventured. The rough direction already inspired the three that there _was_ hope, already Lila was skipping around excitedly.

There wasn't much that far North, mostly open farmland people utilized for raising animals than crops. Sparse forests and scattered lakes existed, providing a slight challenge in contrast to the open valley the Barton Homestead was built in.

Eight miles North wasn't terribly far, by sunset, Lucky would be welcome home with gentle pats and a firm belly rub.

"Alright squad!" Clint bellowed, walking out towards where the various cars were parked in the gravel driveway, "Time to roll!"

"Can I say it?" Lila gasped excitedly, "Can I _please?"_

"Go for it, Silly Lily," Clint beamed, bouncing her in his arm, "Real loud so everyone can hear."

Lila nodded, cupping her mouth and shrieking with the voice of a young girl, " _Avengers Assemble!"_

* * *

"Come in Widow," Tony spoke casually, "I repeat, come in Widow."

_"We're on a cell phone. Not a walkie-talkie, Stark."_

Clint rolled his eyes, braking slowly at a stop sign planted firmly in the middle of a tractor crossing, "You have no sense of adventure. Live a little, we're on a high stakes rescue mission here."

In the backseat, next to Bruce, Lila giggled.

 _"Fine,"_ Her sigh was loud enough to come in over the phone, _"Widow here. Do you copy, Rust-Bucket?"_

"That's just mean," Tony pouted, crossing his arms although she couldn't see it, "I'm so hurt over here."

_"Of course you are. You must be weeping from how merciless I am."_

Lila giggled once again, "Aunt Tasha!"

Natasha's voice almost instantly lightened, _"You need a reminder of my wrath, Lil'? Need another tickle battle?"_

"No no," Lila backed up, "I'm good, that's not needed, that's not nec- nessa-" Lila paused, looking at Bruce silently.

"Necessary?" Bruce guessed, causing Lila to nod, "Yes! Not necessary."

 _"Sure thing, Lil'."_ Natasha responded calmly, _"Cooper says that the radar went down a step."_

"Oh, cool cool," Tony blinked, checking the screen on his own radar, "Ours did too. That shaved off a few miles."

 _"Ah, yes,"_ Natasha confirmed, not sounding confused although not sounding concerned over the data.

There was a muffled pause before Steve spoke, his voice unsettlingly loud before he adjusted, _"What exactly is a step. What is this thing measuring?"_

Tony scoffed, "It's measuring the dog, Captain Obvious."

 _"Right,"_ Steve paused, _"But is this in units of dog? Did we just go down a step of dog?"_

Tony made a dramatic sigh, mostly to amuse Lila with his overdramatized movements, "Do I have to explain _everything-"_

 _"It may have been nice if Bruce came with us, you know,"_ Steve spoke back, although his voice was light, _"Two genius' in one car may wreck the poor thing."_

Tony rolled his eyes, "You don't need Brucey, you have Cooper. See? Equal genius distribution right there."

There was a pause on the other end, causing Clint to bark out a laugh which devolved into sniggers.

"Careful there," Clint's chest heaved, "You'll give that kid a nosebleed with how much he's been blushing."

"He's smart," Tony defended sharply, "Don't know how your bird brains ever made _that."_

"It's all Laura," Clint explained cheerfully, "Hear that, Lila? You got Mummy's great looks too."

Lila nodded energetically, peering out the window and pointing at a corn field to show Bruce something Clint didn't understand.

The call reconnected and the cars slowed before reversing, turning at the first crossroads to become parallel once again.

"Is there any music?" Lila asked curiously, "Mummy always plays music."

"Only Kanye," Tony instantly replied, "Which is not okay for innocent ears."

Lila pouted.

They turned twice more, finally narrowing the area where Lucky's signal was coming from to a desolate little town, marked more by a single gas station and a half dozen stores.

Clint spotted Natasha's Range Rover approaching from the opposite direction- they had already figure the general property where Lucky's signal was originating.

Natasha pulled over sharply, braking sharply and abusing the rental car with relish. Clint chugged along, slowing and parking next to the tinted off-road car.

Clint rolled down the window slowly, quirking one eyebrow with a bland face, "Hey there," He started casually, "Come here often?"

Steve, having rolled down his own window in the other car, didn't know how to respond.

Thor opened his back seat door with a bit too much force, nearly knocking it into the bed of Clint's truck. He apologized, the words audible even through the metal body.

"Is this a chip break?" Tony piped up, peering out of the window up at the locally owned hardware store, "This is a chip break. You want chips? Bruce? Doritos? Fritos? Other brands that end with 'os'?"

"Oreos?" Lila asked hopefully, already reaching for her seatbelt.

"Go get 'em, kid." Clint advised, unbuckling himself to hop out of the car, "We'll have a small rest stop, maybe they know the property or who that land belongs to."

Steve stepped out of the car, looking too pristine in his designer jeans Tony stocked his wardrobe in. The super soldier wiped his palms over the denim thighs, something Clint took satisfaction in seeing.

"You know this place?" Natasha asked casually, crossing her arms and leaning against the Rover.

"Nah," Clint shook his head, "This is right on the edge of the township. I never really went this high, people from the kid's school may be from around here though."

Natasha nodded, ruffling Cooper's hair as the young boy darted past to try and subtly catch up with Tony. Clint chuckled, finding the sight almost adorable.

Another car pulled up, chugging along and parking a few spots over.

"Hello!" The man nodded, the worn fabric of his pants and shirt showing him as a local resident, "You new around here?"

The hardware store must have really been the hub of activity if it was that easy to recognize them.

"Yeah," Clint nodded back, giving a short wave, "Looking for a dog around here. Got it chipped, but isn't very specific to where the signal's coming from."

The man nodded knowingly, "Those cell signals, the one over west of the creek went down a year ago in that twister."

Clint winced, "Wicked one?"

The man just gave him a knowing look, causing Clint to step out and around the truck.

"Walter," The man introduced himself, offering one fairly clean hand, "a farm just up the road, I like to keep in touch with everyone nearby."

That wasn't unusual, with how rural the land was it was almost necessary to know everyone who wandered through.

"Clint," he introduced himself, giving a firm handshake, "Far South, you grow corn?"

"Oh no," Walter shook his head, "Mostly renting out equipment to whoever needs it, sometime I sell out or take in the occasional saddle that needs it."

Clint nodded appreciatively, "You have many? Horses I mean, seems like good land for it. I've been considering, for my daughter."

Walter's face lit up, "Oh they're wonderful, great friends, ya know? Haven't had a problem in a while, Loptr's been taking in anything that needs a place- you ask Miranda yet about your dog? She handles all the strays, boards them for a bit or heads over to Loptr if they need help."

Clint tilted his head interested, "Loptr? That an animal rehab?"

"Not officially, "Walter shrugged, "At least not by state, but I haven't seen a single unhappy critter over there. Miranda sometimes takes a few out for show, presentations to the school and so on."

Clint nodded, "Sounds like a good man. You close? With this Miranda?"

Walter's expression lit up, "Sure am! Here- we'll go see her now."

Clint shrugged at Natasha, but followed the man up the steps into the store. There was a bell behind the door, signaling not only to the woman at the counter, but also to Clint's entourage with a bag full of snacks and gummy worms.

"Walter!" The woman beamed, "You know these folk?"

"Daddy!" Lila cheered, "This lady was the one with the llama!"

"Alpaca actually," Miranda corrected.

"Oh, that's cool," Clint brightly stated, although he had absolutely no idea what Lila was talking about.

"At the school," Cooper clarified with a small smile, "She brings in animals for demonstrations,"

"Applewood, right?" The woman asked, fishing for the name of the school, "Great crowd, I'm heading back in a few weeks with Hilde- she's the big dark horse!"

Lila cooed and assaulted Tony's ears with her gibberish filled rant of how _pretty_ the horse was.

"So, you visit Loptr recently?" Walter asked pleasantly, "These kind people said they were missing a dog, afraid Loptr might have taken in another stray."

Miranda hummed under her breath, "I'd give him a call but his phone isn't working again, I swear he's almost Amish. It's possible, that man hoards animals like a pack-rat."

Walter chuckled heartily, "Well, I can head on down and see- you got a spot for that chip?"

Tony fumbled in his pocket, pulling out the flat screen with the grainy photo of google maps. A small red dot signaled the location or the area it was originating from- one glance had Walter beaming.

"Yep! That's old Loptr," He assured with a nod, "I'll take you over right now if you'd like, it's just off the main road, although he's a bit wary with new people."

"You've helped us already," Clint assured, "You don't have to do that."

"Nonsense," Walter shrugged off the complement, "Been meaning to see if he needed help with that new rabbit hutch I saw him building last."

"Tell him I say hello!" Miranda beamed, passing over the plastic bags filled with snacks, "tell him to answer his phone!"

Walter laughed heartily, giving a wave to Thor, Steve, and Natasha before starting up his own truck. As he pulled away, Clint spotted strange dents on the far side of the reflected car.

They followed him, this time with windows rolled down to breathe in the lukewarm air of Iowa countryside. Bruce started sneezing, which naturally led to Tony going into a complete fit of sneezes, flailing and all.

It was a short distance before Walter's truck pulled into a dirt path just past a large homemade sign, stapled with posters of animals for adoption or for sale.

The truck bounced along, past a single dog laying in the shade of a recently painted house. It perked its ears, jumping to its feet before it barked excitedly in circles.

"There ya are!" Walter shouted, stepping out of his truck and petting the happy dog, "Loptr's farm."

Natasha parked nearby, everyone piling out and looking around curiously. The land wasn't that different than Clint's, perhaps more trees and a greater abundance of wild flowers.

"Alright, let's get our puppy back!" Clint cheered, drawing a large grin from Cooper and breathless smiles from Lila.

Thor shivered boldly, pausing and glancing around with a perplexed look.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked, frowning at Thor's confusion.

"There is," Thor paused, looking unsure of himself, "I feel as if a sudden light has turned its eye upon our company."

Clint frowned at the words, "A great eye? Is there a-" he paused, subtly motioning towards the two children, "is there a code here?"

Thor shook his head, "I say naught, my friends. It is not malevolent in spirit," Thor grinned toothily, pointing towards the house, "Onwards!"

The dog barked, wagging its tail happily as it bounded up on its haunches over and over. Its tongue lolled out, whining happily as Natasha spared it a gentle scratch.

"Pretty girl, isn't she?" Walter asked, slightly alarmed by Thor's strange spectacle, "Rare too, a Carpathian Shepherd, Miranda and I think. Sigyn the pretty girl," Walter beamed.

Once again Thor faltered, glancing at the dog hesitantly, "Sigyn, you say?"

"What's wrong?" Clint asked, wishing he had his bow on him, "trouble?"

"Nay," Thor's expression looked vaguely haunted, "A maiden's name once was Sigyn, before Valkyries granted her wings into Valhalla."

Walter was almost certainly weirded out by now.

"Loptr's probably out back," Walter jerked a thumb over his shoulder, "Should I, ah,"

"We're good," Natasha smiled politely, "The name Loptr sounds Norwegian, perhaps it's just coincidence."

"Or we have an Asgardian on our hands," Tony muttered sourly, rolling his shoulders unsure.

"Daddy," Lila argued with a frown, "The lady says the animals are from here."

"That's true," Clint admitted, "Whoever it is takes in animals and then rents them out for schools, so they can't be all that bad."

"Loptr's one of the nicest men you'll ever meet," Walter argued, "Come on, I'll introduce you all." He turned and walked firmly over the ground, the dog, Sigyn, bolting and racing around the house out of sight.

They barely made it to the edge of the house's foundation before an entire _pack_ of dogs ran out and around, yipping and barking loudly.

"Holy-" Tony yelped in surprise, "Is that a _wolf?"_

Indeed, there was a wolf, a great creature that was considerably slow, although was missing one of its legs. Its eyes were shockingly intelligent, although it was running second in command to the friendly Sheppard.

"Hello boys!" Walter greeted pleasantly, giving a few nice pats to a wriggling whippet and a very old basset hound, "We're here to see Loptr!"

Sigyn barked, then ran out of sight around the back of the house once again.

"This is getting super weird," Tony confessed, keeping Cooper on the inside of the circle of Avengers.

They walked around the side of the house, escorted actually, to see a large pasture with wooden fences housing a large alpaca, a great dark horse, and a small goat.

"Loptr!" Walter bellowed, looking around with a frown, "Loptr! I have some nice people here looking for a new dog!"

It was unusually quiet.

"Is that a mushroom garden?" Bruce blinked, pointing to a weird herb garden speckled with garden gnomes and toadstools.

"Forget that," Tony blinked, "There are otters, in a pond."

Lila peered around excitedly, "It's Snow White!"

"Right," Clint shuffled uncomfortably, "so this Loptr guy-"

The large barn door opened, and from the gate a single figure walked out with a recognizable dog limping at his side.

"Lucky!" Lila shrieked excitedly, running forward towards the two.

"Lila!" Clint barked, jerking his arm out to snatch his daughter and hold her protectively close to his chest, "Cooper stay back!"

"What is it?" Cooper asked, stumbling backwards where Tony placed himself in front of the boy, "What is-"

The figure paused, green eyes widening and observing the group.

"Loptr!" Walter smiled, ignorant of the increased tension and horror of the group, "These nice people lost their dog and the chip said that it was here!"

The man paused, looking at a metal bucket in his hand overfilled with soiled straw, and the dirt caked jeans and decidedly human plaid shirt.

"Well," Loki spoke, aging twenty years in a few moments, "This decidedly could have happened better."

" _Loki!"_ Clint hissed, curling his body over his daughter while glaring with the rising boil of pure loathing, "What are you _doing?"_

Loki paused, opening his mouth although he clicked his jaw shut as Sigyn ran over wiggling. The dog barked, Lucky barked in return, and Loki sighed.

"Thor," Loki's voice was frosty. (The group also ignored how Walter was stumbling over his own words,) "I call _Hoenir."_

Thor's tense muscles instantly went lax, "You offer truce?"

Loki didn't blink, "As mote by Mimir."

Thor relaxed entirely, "Peace, my friends," He smiled, "A web of ancient rest has been laid."

"What?" Steve asked, still holding his hands in front of his face in a boxing pose, "What are you talking about."

"A treaty," Thor explained, "My brother shalt not strike or harm in exchange we too, do not."

"What?" Walter weakly asked, looking around and at Loki in confusion, "Loptr, what-"

"These are the Avengers," Loki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exhaustion, "Perhaps it best you leave,"

"What? No," Walter argued, "If, if these folk think you a threat-"

" _Walter,"_ Loki sighed exasperatedly.

"-You aren't bad!" Walter argued, "You wouldn't, you don't have a single thing here that would hurt a fly!"

There was a loud shriek of something decidedly pissed off and feline. From an open hatch on the roof of the barn, something tawny and lithe leapt out and surveyed the group with long fangs.

"Is that a _lion?"_ Tony gaped, "You have a _lion?"_

Walter made a girlish yelp.

"Oh for Urdr's well-" Loki sighed, setting the metal bucket of soiled straw on the ground. He turned, pointing at the agitated lioness and shouted back annoyed, " _No,_ go back inside and leave these people- _yes,_ give me twenty seconds and you'll have your food!"

The lioness curled its large lips, showing yellow fangs.

Loki raised his arms in the air and argued back, "Well I don't _care,_ have Freydis explain!"

The lioness sat and snorted sourly, its tail twitched although it didn't look likely to pounce.

"What-" Walter still looked pale, "A- a lion-"

"Her name is Mira," Loki rubbed his temples, "as _wonderful_ as this conversation will be, spare me naught more than a moment to feed her, she has an _insufferable_ personality."

The Lioness shrieked in response, almost as if it understood.

"You don't honestly expect us to-" Natasha started, crossing on front with the swaying movements of a panther.

"Peace, Lady Widow," Thor's voice grumbled, "If my brother dares strike, he will be smote by the fates themselves. We are under ancient truce, where words and blood have bound our meeting for warmer crossings."

Natasha did not look happy, but she straightened.

"Right," Loki scowled, rubbing his hands on his jeans, "under the bindings of Mirmir, I invite you inside my residence."

Thor beamed, "Brother! You have settled with akin to the Vanir!"

Loki flinched, "I am _not_ your brother."

Sigyn whined, looking uncomfortable and upset. Loki glanced at her, his expression softening as he clicked his tongue, "Our words are distressing Sigyn, please, perhaps our conversation should be moved indoors."

Lila tilted her head, holding her arms outwards with an open expression of pain, "I- Lucky?"

The other dog, the border collie nearest Loki, wagged its tail. It made a high pitch bark, glancing at Loki happily, then back at Lila.

" _Oh,"_ Loki blinked, "Hamingja was lost from your estate."

"What," Clint asked cautiously, "Who the heck is Hama- Hami-"

"Hamingja," Thor spoke fluently, tilting his head curiously, "It is 'luck' in our tongue. I believe the hound you named Lucky has been granted shelter by my brother."

"I am not-" Loki held his breath before sighing loudly, " _Lucky,_ expresses gratitude and fondness. He has missed you so, and has wounded himself and was unable to return."

"You're talking to him," Natasha spoke bluntly, eying the lioness who basked in the sunlight, "You're speaking to all of them."

"Aye," Thor nodded calmly, "My brother is gifted with silver tongue."

"Silver tongue," Tony echoed numbly, "Right, as in-"

Loki stuck out his tongue, it shimmered and rippled like liquid mercury.

"-Right," Tony's jaw clicked, "Literally silver. Of course."

Cooper shifted his weight, and Lucky barked loudly, looking at Loki.

Loki nodded, waving his hand dismissively as he picked up the bucket of soiled straw once more. Lucky took off in a hobble, Sigyn rushing over to assist his hobbling walk over to the group.

Loki threw the bucket in a wooden wheelbarrow, settling the empty bucket nearest the wheel. He turned and pointed at the lioness, snapping loudly.

The lioness growled, but rose slowly and jumped through the hatch back into the barn. The horse tossed its head, having spotted Walter.

"Hilde says hello," Loki drawled, pointing to the pale and uncomprehending man, "Perhaps you should remain outdoors until you have recovered."

"Right," Walter spoke, looking just as offset as everyone else felt, "I'll do that."

The Alpaca looked over curiously, the goat keeping near as they both peered over at the group.

"Daddy!" Lila gasped, pointing at the Alpaca, "That's it! That's the llama!"

"Oh god," Tony breathed, "That bas- that _bass,_ sends these animals to _schools."_

"I'm doing nothing wrong!" Loki defended himself, "They assist because they desire to do so!"

"You can't continue doing this," Steve looked firmly at Loki, his face a hard read, "We'll be taking you in-"

Loki hung his shoulders, giving a loud _human_ groan of annoyance, "Why can you mortals not leave me _alone?"_

"Guys," Bruce spoke quietly, the only one out of all of them who was actually armed, "I think we should listen to him."

"What?" Clint gasped, tightening his grip on Lila, "I'm _not-"_

"Let's just try," Bruce advised quietly, "We're under truce, right?"

"Aye," Thor advised, "My brother cannot harm us."

Clint's lip curled, "I am not letting that monster near my children-"

"And I would not let mine near you, Archer." Loki spit out, glaring sourly, "In memory of Sigyn, I ask you dare not sour this place."

"Oh," Thor exhaled heavily, nodding somberly, "Aye, Loki. We will not taint the shrine you have constructed."

"Shrine?" Natasha asked cautiously, "This place?"

"It's a memorial," Tony blinked, looking around in confusion, "One weird way to make one I guess."

"If you are _done,"_ Loki clipped, "Then we should further our discussions inside. Freydis has alerted the others."

"The others?" Cooper asked with restrained curiosity, "There's more?"

There were indeed more.

Loki walked in and shucked off his outer jacket, revealing that he was wearing a shirt that was shockingly human. A battle worn cat padded over the tile, missing one eye and having the shreds of an ear left. It meowed curiously, brushing against Lila with gentleness of a mother.

"This is- _Jesus Chr-"_ Tony choked, pin wheeling his arms as he stumbled into the living room, "What is _that?"_

Loki glanced up halfheartedly, "That is Carl."

The gigantic snake lifted its head lazily, flicking its tongue before flopping back on the couch with the definition of relaxation.

"You go all fancy with the names," Tony snarked, "All Norse and showing off, and then you give us _Carl?"_

Loki blinked slowly, "Carl says 'Hello'."

There was a loud bang from outside, although the group ignored it through effort.

"He's _beautiful,"_ Lila gasped, reaching out to touch the giant snake.

"Don't touch it, Lila," Clint warned, "It's dangerous."

"Carl is _not,"_ Loki snapped, "All of my wards are of no danger and will present no danger to your offspring. They are not to be harmed."

"And if they do?" Steve asked boldly, "What assurance do we have that you will not find a loophole in this truce you have?"

Loki's lips curled back and his expression twisted into something _savage,_ "I _swear,"_ he spit the word sourly, "On the amber grasses that mark the tomb of my beloved."

There was a gasp from Thor, and somehow, that finally cemented how serious Loki was.

There was another bang, everyone ignored it.

"Okay," Clint scowled, " _fine,_ but the next time you attack us, we know _exactly_ where you are-"

Loki raised his hands in exhaustion and disbelief, "I do not _desire_ that!"

Bruce tilted his head curiously, "You don't?"

" _No!"_ Loki shrieked, "Why do you simple mortals intrude and pester me with such, with such _ridiculous claims?_ I only wish to be left _alone."_

Bruce nodded, sympathetic, "He's fine."

"What?" Tony gaped, "Are you kidding- he, he freaking _invaded_ the planet-"

"And the Other Guy broke Harlem," Bruce countered, "He just wants to be left alone. He's serious, I can tell."

There was another bang.

"We'll leave you alone," Natasha growled, pointing threateningly, "but if you do a _single thing-"_

"I would never sully the name of which this land is remembered for," Loki's eyes blazed, "And you best not challenge me over things you dare not understand."

"Fine," Clint bluntly stated, glaring, "But if you do _anything."_

"I know," Loki exhaled heavily, peering down as Sigyn brushed her grey fur against his leg. His expression softened, "I offer my blade for the deed itself."

Thor nodded, "You have honor, brother."

Loki didn't respond.

There was another bang, this time Tony whined, "what _is_ that?"

Loki paused, walking over to peer out the front window.

For a split second, a human emotion of intense joy and amusement overtook his feature. Along with his dirtied jeans, human shirt mended from tiny tears and faded from the afternoon sun; Loki looked entirely content and relaxed.

He looked peaceful, and everyone could respect that.

There was a bang, this one prompted an actual giggle from the god's lips.

" _That,"_ Loki trailed off, eyes filled with restrained mirth, "Is Magnus. Fear he, as his noble title is Magnus, Destroyer of Trucks."

There was another bang, now identified as the sound of a goat head-butting the rented truck Clint had brought.

"Fear he." Loki wisely added, lips twitching.

Tony rubbed his eyes, looking so certainly overwhelmed he didn't know what to say, "Rest in Peace, Kanye Cassette."

"Right," Clint sighed, petting Lucky who was thrilled with the new development, "let's go home."


End file.
